Forgotten
by fakiagirl
Summary: When Gilbert moves into an old apartment in Vienna, he doesn't think much of the rumor that it's haunted. The only being that comes with the place is a rather aristocratic cat. However, the cat isn't all it seems. Two-shot, GilRod.
1. Part I

_Author's note:_ Yeah, this is weird for me too – or at least it was, until I got really into writing this story. :) A while ago I read a story where Gilbert and Roderich showed up as a side pairing. I thought it was really weird until I realized that I had never thought about them seriously before. Could they work? I realized that yes, they could. Then I noticed that my cat looks exactly like what I figure Austria-cat looks like, and voila, a fic was born. However, as much fun as this was, I sincerely doubt I will ever write a fic for them them again. I wrote all of it in a day, so next chapter will be up soon.

Two-shot.

* * *

><p><em>Part I<em>

Gilbert had never been easily accepted by society. His pale white skin and hair and his red eyes had always driven people away before he even opened his mouth. They said he looked like a ghost, so he thought it was ironically appropriate that he was moving into an apartment that was supposedly inhabited by one.

The apartment building was located in one of the old parts of Vienna that had once been home to the rich and well-to-do, but was now more likely home to rats and mold. This particular one was still livable, at least, but it was rundown and in disrepair. That also meant it was cheap, which suited Gilbert perfectly.

He had taken a tour of the available apartments before he produced any money. When he had been shown this particular one, the woman showing him around had said as she opened the door, "This particular apartment is . . . unusual. I must warn you that previous tenants have reported that it is, well . . . haunted by a . . ." Here she leaned in and whispered, "_ghost_. However, it is at a particularly discounted price–"

All Gilbert saw were dark wood walls and floors and a fringed, faded carpet. He didn't even step inside. "I'll take this one," he said immediately. He liked to think later that he had taken it because it would take the least out of his bank account. A part of him, though, knew it was because of the word _ghost. _

He moved in that afternoon. There wasn't any reason not to; he had all his belongings with him, and the apartment hadn't been inhabited for years. It was actually quite sizable, with a nice living room that took up most of the space. A small bedroom and bathroom that led off of it. The kitchen was small and cramped but usable. There wasn't any space for a table, but he wasn't complaining. He didn't own one.

The only curious thing about the apartment itself was that at the back of the living room was a set of polished wooden stairs. The door at the top, however, had been blocked off completely with plaster and cinderblocks, along with any space that could connect the two floors. It had clearly once been an apartment for some aristocrat, presumably with the bedroom up the stairs, but had since been turned into two for its modern residents. Gilbert eyed it with brief curiosity, but upon determining that breaking through the plaster would be more trouble than it was worth, he mostly forgot about it.

He spent his afternoon unpacking and sort of throwing his stuff around. He didn't have much in the way of entertainment, but apparently the previous residents had been in a hurry to get out, because a bookcase full of books was still standing behind the couch. He picked one out at random and settled down.

Gilbert was quickly becoming sure that he was going to die, not in some exciting way like by the hands of a ghost, but of boredom. He hadn't even spent the night yet, and he was already feeling confined and dusty. He snapped the book shut, threw it on the side table, and went to the kitchen.

He had forgotten to get any food, and there was very little in the cupboards. He had been hoping for something canned or even cracker-like in the pantry, but it was empty. He made a face and let the door bang closed. When he turned around, he found himself face to face with a cat.

They weren't actually face to face, because the cat was sitting on the tiled floor of the kitchen and Gilbert was a lot taller than a house cat, but it _felt _like they were face to face. A pair of distinctly feline but disturbingly dark, blue eyes stared accusingly up at him. Its fur was black except on its face and chest, where its long fur puffed out like the white ruffled ascots men used to wear. It sat straight and perfectly still, without so much of a twitch of its tail.

As Gilbert stared at it in shock, it seemed to decide their small staring contest wasn't worth the trouble. It looked casually away, as if it had just happened to look straight at him. Now that Gilbert could see it in profile, its resemblance to an aristocrat of days of old was unmistakable. Gilbert grinned, and then broke into raucous laughter. At that, the cat's ears twitched backward and it returned to glaring at him.

"What, are you the ghost everyone was complaining about? Was this your house or something, and now you've come back to haunt it?" Gilbert was grinning. The cat did not appear pleased. "Were you some aristocrat, huh? Was this your apartment?" He reached down quickly in an attempt to pick the cat up. It immediately hissed and spat at him, and then tried desperately to back away from him. Gilbert hesitated, giving it just enough time to turn tail and run. Gilbert straightened. "Geez," he muttered. "What an un-awesome cat. No wonder no one wanted this apartment." He glanced back at the empty pantry and sighed. Whether he liked it or not, he needed to go buy food.

* * *

><p>"Hey kitty kitty, I'm home!" Gilbert announced as he slammed open the door to his new apartment. He was met with silence, which was about what he had been expecting. He shoved the door closed behind him with his foot and made his way to the kitchen. He dumped the shopping bags on the tiny counter and began unpacking. As he pulled out a carton of milk, he hesitated. "What the hell," he muttered. He grabbed a saucer out from one of the cabinets (geez, was there a lot of old stuff in this apartment), dusted it off a little, and poured some milk in it. He set it by the sink. "Just so you don't starve," he told the room at large. There wasn't an answer.<p>

* * *

><p>His first night passed uneventfully. He made himself something quick for dinner and went to bed. He didn't see the cat again.<p>

The next day, he went out just for something to do. The saucer had been empty that morning, he had noticed, so he bought some proper cat food. It was the only productive thing he did. When he got back to the apartment, he found a small bowl and poured some cat food into it. He set the bowl next to the saucer. "You'd better appreciate it," he muttered to the empty room. "I don't have money coming out of thin air."

He lazed around the apartment for a while, but buying groceries had made him painfully aware of how strapped for cash he was. He needed a job, and badly. As he sat on the couch, trying to put off the inevitable, the cat appeared nearby. It sat down and watched him. "Don't look at me like that," Gilbert told it. "If I'm going to be taking care of you, you should go get a job. I don't see why you're making me do all the work around here." The cat narrowed its eyes and looked away. "Yeah, whatever. Don't destroy the place while I'm gone." He stood up, threw on his coat, and headed outside.

There was a bite to the air, but he ignored it. There was a street full of shops not too far from the apartment building, so he wandered up and down it for a while, looking for anywhere that had an opening. The bar on the corner rejected him so quickly he hardly knew what had happened. (It might have had something to do with him trying to get a free drink out of the deal by flirting with the waitress, but you could never be sure about these things.) He passed by the seamstress's shop without a second glance. The only place he had any remote interest in working at was a bakery. The head baker threw an apron at him and told he started the next day.

Gilbert went home not in the best of moods. He had a job, but that didn't mean he had to _like _it. He jangled the key angrily in the lock of his door. When it clicked, he shoved the door open and walked inside.

It took Gilbert a split second to notice him. He was sitting in the old fashioned chair in the living room, the one that looked like it had belonged to a fancy set for a dining room table. The chair faced the couch, so the man's back was to Gilbert. All he could see was dark, smooth hair with a stray curl sticking up. It was enough to know that he had definitely never met this person before.

"Who the fuck are you?" Gilbert demanded as he slammed the door shut behind him.

The man turned his head slightly, just enough for Gilbert to get a glimpse of pale skin, a dark blue eye, and the frame of a pair of glasses. "Please, have a seat."

"Hey, you're the one sitting in my house without permission. Totally un-awesome." Gilbert glowered at him. "Explain or leave."

"No," the man said slowly as he turned enough to fix Gilbert with a glare, "This is my house, and you're the one living in it."

That gave Gilbert pause. He had never actually met the landlord, but somehow he didn't think that he would break into his tenant's apartments. Gilbert slowly walked around to stand across from the strange man, but he didn't sit down. He crossed his arms. "Alright, I'm listening. Talk."

"My name is Roderich Edelstein." He looked up at Gilbert expectantly.

Gilbert raised an eyebrow. "I'm not telling you my name until you tell me why the hell you're here."

"Alright, Mr. Beillschmidt," Roderich said. Gilbert twitched. "Believe it or not, we've met before."

"I think I'd remember a face as ugly as yours," Gilbert shot back. "And what the hell are you wearing?" He was just now noticing that Roderich looked like he had stepped out of the 19th century.

Roderich's eyes narrowed. "I'm the one who's haunting this place."

There was a moment of silence. Gilbert burst out laughing. "What, you're the ghost? Haha, that's rich! And here I thought it was just the cat!" Gilbert doubled over, guffawing.

"I am the cat," Roderich said loudly over Gilbert's laughter.

"You're – You're the _cat?_" There were tears in Gilbert's eyes now from laughing so hard.

Roderich gave him a final glare and suddenly, he was gone. In his place, sitting primly on the old fashioned chair, was the cat. Gilbert stopped laughing.

"Whoa dude, not funny," Gilbert managed as he stumbled backwards. The back of his leg hit the couch and he suddenly sat down.

The cat glared at him for a moment longer, and then suddenly it was a person again. "I wasn't trying to be funny."

"Fuck," Gilbert said. "I haven't been drinking, have I?" He looked around the room, but there was no sign of so much as a drop of alcohol.

"Now listen," Roderich said. "I don't have much time to explain this, but here's how it's going to work. I will let you live here if you don't disturb me, don't ask me stupid questions, and don't leave _saucers of cream _for me." His mouth curled up in disgust.

Gilbert's eyes narrowed. "Hey, don't tell me you're not going to eat the cat food. That shit's expensive." Roderich simply glared at him. Gilbert leaned an arm on the armrest of the couch and his mouth spread into a lazy grin. "Would it be a stupid question to ask how you came to be part cat?"

Roderich's mouth twitched. "Another time," he said, and suddenly he was a cat again. He jumped down elegantly from the chair and padded away.

"Hey, you'd better explain everything before I go to bed tonight," Gilbert called after him, "Because this is freaking creepy."

The cat simply twitched its tail and disappeared from view.

* * *

><p>The cat reappeared to watch him eat dinner. He offered it a forkful of beans, but it turned its head away and managed to look disgusted at the very idea. Gilbert did his best to ignore the cat. It simply sat there quietly until he was done. Gilbert threw his dishes in the sink and sat back down. "Alright," he said to the cat. "Time for you to answer some questions."<p>

The cat stood up, and suddenly Roderich was there, flicking a bit of dust off of his blue velvet coat. He sat down in the same chair he had sat in earlier and looked disdainfully at Gilbert. "What would you like to know?"

"How you came to be this way, first off," Gilbert said. He settled deeper into the couch.

Roderich sighed. "I came to be in this state because a witch named Elizabeta made me this way."

"Geez, what did you do to her?" Gilbert asked with a smirk.

"She was my wife." Roderich looked away. "We got in a fight."

Gilbert laughed. "So she turned you into a cat? Smooth."

Roderich glared at him. "It is not as pleasant as you think. I can only take my human form for short periods of time, and I am not permitted to leave these premises."

"So, what?" Gilbert asked, a slight frown on his features, "She just made you a temporary cat-human thing and you're stuck this way? That seems kind of cruel." He titled his head to the side thoughtfully. "And what do you mean by the premises?"

Roderich waved his hand impatiently at the walls around them. "I can't leave this apartment, which was once mine. She did allow me a way to escape the curse. I will be released if I find my True Love."

Gilbert grinned. "And what, they have to kiss you on the lips? Wake you up from your enchanted sleep?"

"She didn't specify," Roderich muttered.

"So what happens if you die before you find this 'True Love' of yours?"

"I can't," he said bitterly.

"What, you're immortal?" Gilbert asked, surprised.

"Yes."

"Isn't that great?" Gilbert asked. Roderich said nothing. Gilbert snorted. "Geez, if I were you I would have given up on finding this love of yours a long time ago. Sounds like you have it great to me. That must be why you try to make everyone think this place is haunted, right? So you'll never die." Gilbert's laughter was sharp and raucous.

"It's not great," Roderich said sharply. "For all intents and purposes, this place _is_ haunted." He took a deep breath. "It may be difficult to believe, but never being allowed to leave this place is one of the worst things she could have done to me." A brief expression of pain crossed his face. "I have had to watch it crumble around me, and there is nothing I can do about it."

There was a moment of silence. Gilbert eyed the man in front of him a little more carefully. "How long have you been stuck this way, anyway?" he finally asked. "No offense, but you aren't dressed in the most modern of styles." He waved a hand at Roderich's outfit – a long, blue button-up coat, complete with an ascot, tights, and black buckled shoes.

"Over a hundred years."

Gilbert raised an eyebrow. A grin suddenly stretched across his face. "Wow, you've waited that long and you still haven't found _anyone _who loves you? Tough luck."

Roderich immediately stiffened. His mouth tightened and his eyes fixed on a spot over Gilbert's left shoulder. There was a long silence. "Please leave as soon as you can," he finally hissed out. Suddenly, a cat was sitting rigidly in the old-fashioned chair. It leapt down onto the once fine carpet and padded away without a single indication that it was aware of Gilbert's existence.

Gilbert watched it disappear around a corner. He made a face. "So much for thanking me for the food," he muttered.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Gilbert rolled out of bed with a groan. The sun was barely up, but he supposed that showing up too late to his first day of work wouldn't exactly gain him points with the baker. He splashed some cold water on his face, got dressed, and went to go make himself some breakfast.<p>

Roderich – the human version of him – was sitting on the couch. He appeared to be simply staring into the distance, and barely gave any indication that he had noticed Gilbert's appearance. Gilbert stopped in the doorway. "Do you eat?" Gilbert asked bluntly.

"I don't need to," Roderich said.

Gilbert nodded. "Great, more food for me." He yawned and stumbled into the kitchen.

Roderich watched him eat, which Gilbert found a little weird, but after their tense conversation the night before he decided not to complain about it. He dumped his dishes in the sink with last night's and headed out the door. "I have work," he told Roderich, though he wasn't sure why he felt the need to explain himself. "Don't . . . touch my stuff while I'm gone." Roderich simply looked back at him. Gilbert closed the door behind him and left.

* * *

><p>After a day of throwing things in and out of the giant ovens at the bakery, Gilbert was more exhausted than he liked to admit. It was dark when he got back to the apartment. He walked inside, locked the door behind him, and blinked.<p>

He had moved into a dusty, rundown apartment with faded rugs and stained tiles. The rugs were still faded and the tiles were still stained, but there was not a speck of dust in sight. The floors and walls shone. A lamp had been left on in the living room, though there was no one in sight. Gilbert went into the kitchen to grab some food. The dishes from the past two days were gone, and the sink had clearly been scrubbed within an inch of its life. Gilbert looked out at the rest of the apartment. "Thanks for doing the dishes," he called. He made himself some food and sat down on the couch.

While he was eating, the cat padded into the room. Mid-step, it turned into Roderich, who settled himself in his familiar chair. "I don't like dust," he said by way of explanation.

"How come you didn't clean up this place before, then?" Gilbert asked around a mouthful of food.

"I don't usually spend much time down here." Roderich glanced away.

"Down here?" Gilbert asked, surprised.

"Yes. The upstairs is also part of the apartment."

Gilbert glanced at the blocked-off stairway. He supposed that there were some holes in the plaster small enough for a cat to get through. "Ah, right. What's up there? Just the master bedroom?"

"Yes."

Gilbert nodded. After dinner, he threw his dishes in the sink without bothering to wash them. The next day when he got home from work, he found a cat glaring at him, but the dishes had been washed. Gilbert grinned. He could live like this.

* * *

><p>The weeks passed. Gilbert discovered that Roderich-the-cat really was eating the cat food. At first, he assumed that it was because of guilt, but when he brought it up, Roderich informed him in a sharp tone that he couldn't always control his instincts as a cat. He immediately turned a little red and looked as if he wished that he hadn't said anything. Gilbert grinned. Oh, this was going to be fun.<p>

One day he came back with a canary just to mess with Roderich. He knew that in his cat form, Roderich _wanted _to eat small yellow birds. He also knew that there was no way that Roderich would let himself stoop so low. So Gilbert hung the cage in the living room (far above the floor, just in case) and whistled happily to himself.

Sure enough, the next morning he found a cat sitting in the living room and looking up at the canary, its tail twitching. Later, Gilbert fed the bird seeds through the bars by hand as a treat. "Now, what should the awesome me name the awesome you?" Gilbert asked the bird. "It should be almost as awesome as my name . . ." His eyes lit up. "That's it! Gil_bird_!" The bird twittered happily. Gilbert laughed. "Is that the best name or what?"

"I don't think I've ever heard a stupider one," a dry voice said from behind him.

Gilbert turned around and grinned, his eyes flashing red in the morning light. "Just more proof that it's actually awesome." He turned back to the canary, chanting, "Gilbird, Gilbird."

* * *

><p>After the first few weeks, Roderich started being around less and less. It made Gilbert increasingly irritated, though he couldn't pinpoint why. One day, neither the cat nor the human made an appearance of any kind before he left for work, and when he got home he didn't see either for hours more. He was just about to go to bed when the cat padded into the room from the direction of the staircase.<p>

Gilbert turned on the cat and glared at it. "Why do you spend all your time up there, huh? What's so amazingly awesome about it? You miss your wife or something?"

The cat turned into Roderich mid-step, who then walked right past Gilbert. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and began to dust the mantlepiece, his back to Gilbert. Gilbert had seen the expression of hurt on his face, though. "She's not my wife anymore," Roderich said. "In case you've forgotten, that's only true until 'death do us part'."

Come to think of it, Roderich didn't wear a ring, either – but then again, Gilbert wouldn't know. Maybe the ceremony had been different back then. "Well, whatever," Gilbert said with a frown. "What's upstairs? There has to be something you're not telling me."

Roderich didn't say anything for a moment. He was dusting the same part of the mantlepiece over and over. "It doesn't concern you."

"It does since I live here too!" Gilbert said. "Does someone else live up there?" The thought had never occurred to him before, since he never heard any footsteps except Roderich's, but it was certainly possible.

"No," Roderich said. "Part of the wall rotted and fell in some time ago, so it got entirely boarded up."

"How long ago was 'some time ago'?" Gilbert demanded.

Roderich finally turned to look at him, a slight frown on his features. "I don't know. I have a hard time keeping track of time. I only really know what year it is or what's going on when someone buys a newspaper."

Gilbert immediately felt guilty and decided to buy a newspaper the next time he was out. "So, what?" he asked desperately. "You just really like being alone?"

Roderich turned back to the mantlepiece, though he had given up the pretense of dusting it. "My piano is upstairs," he said softly.

Gilbert waited for a moment, expecting more. "What? That's it?"

Roderich turned away from the mantlepiece, his face contorted in anger. He took two steps and then turned into a cat. He bounded towards the stairs.

"Wait!" called Gilbert. The cat paused and looked back at him. Gilbert suddenly felt stupid. "If – If there's a piano, how come I never hear you playing?"

For a moment, the cat was Roderich again. "Because it's broken." Then there was only a cat bounding up the stairs and disappearing through a hole in the plaster. Gilbert suddenly felt quite sad for a reason he couldn't explain.


	2. Part II

_Part II_

After Gilbert had been living there for two months, he decided that he was going to do something. On a day when he didn't have work the next day, he stayed up late reading one of the old books from the bookshelf. Eventually, Roderich-the-cat appeared and curled up on the opposite end of the couch. Gilbert skimmed a couple more pages to make it look casual, but he wasn't really reading the words. Finally, without looking up from his book, he said, "You know, if it would stop you moping around all the time, I could help you fix your piano. I don't know anything about pianos, but I could buy whatever you needed." The cat had lifted its head. Gilbert looked over at it and attempted a grin. "Because your moping is damn annoying and driving me crazy."

Suddenly the cat had jumped down and Roderich was standing in front of him. "You'd do that?" Roderich asked quietly.

Gilbert shrugged. "It's no trouble to me. It's a pity you can't work to earn your keep around here, but I can spare a little money on a silly piano."

Roderich took no offense at it being called a "silly piano" because they both knew none was intended. "I'd appreciate it," he said. Then he was a cat again and leaving the room.

"Hey, where are you going?" Gilbert called after him, but there was no answer.

A moment later, a cat bounded back down the stairs, a piece of paper in its mouth. Roderich strode towards him and handed him the piece of paper. "I made this a long time ago," he said. "It has all the parts I'll need. There's a shop on–" He bit his lip. "There _used _to be a shop–"

"I'll find somewhere," Gilbert said. He took the piece of paper. A neat list of things he didn't understand – wires with measurements and musical notation written next to them, bolts of some kind, things he couldn't guess at – had been written on the scrap of paper in neat, elegant calligraphy with a ballpoint pen. "I'll go tomorrow."

Roderich nodded. "Thank you," he said quietly, as if it were too good to be true.

* * *

><p>The next day, Gilbert returned to find the cat waiting impatiently by the door. The moment Gilbert closed the door behind him, Roderich was walking towards him, asking, "Did you find everything?"<p>

"Yeah, yeah, I just handed the list to the guy at the shop and he found everything." Gilbert held up a bag. "It's all here."

Roderich looked at the bag longingly, but he didn't take it from him. "There's only one more thing."

"What now?" Gilbert asked impatiently.

Roderich met his eyes. His pale skin looked soft in the early afternoon light. "I need your help."

"With what?" Gilbert asked, almost as surprised at Roderich saying the statement as the statement itself. "Fixing it?"

"Yes."

"But I'm not a cat," Gilbert drawled. "And I can't walk through walls, either."

"There are some construction tools in the hall outside the upstairs part of the apartment left over from when they boarded up the wall." There was a strange glint in his eye, and Gilbert could tell from how quickly he was talking that he had had this planned for a long time. "I can see them through a hole in the wall. One of them's a sledgehammer."

Gilbert groaned and dumped the bag of piano parts on the couch. "I'll go get it, your highness." But by the time Gilbert returned with the hammer in hand, he didn't even bother trying to hide his enthusiasm, and Roderich didn't either. He was going to break down the wall that had separated the two parts of the apartment for so long. And most important of all, he was doing it for Roderich.

"Stand back," he warned. Roderich dutifully (for once) stood at the foot of the stairs and watched as Gilbert took the first swing. Gilbert grunted; the cinderblocks were much harder to break than he had anticipated. He swung again and a cloud of plaster covered his face. He coughed a little and swung again. A small chip came off and he swung harder.

By the time there was some kind of hole in the wall, Gilbert was sweaty, his shirt was sticking to him, and he was covered in dust. He took a break under the pretense of looking through the hole into the mysterious other part of the apartment. He couldn't see much through the haze of powdered plaster, but he could make out the grand piano in the center of the main room. He assumed there were doors leading off of it, but he couldn't be sure.

"How is it going?" Roderich asked with some concern.

"Fine," Gilbert called down. He took another swing, and this time a large chunk fell out of the doorway almost easily.

Finally, the hole was big enough for a person to duck through. Gilbert leaned against the wall, catching his breath, and grinned down at cat-Roderich. "You didn't doubt that the awesome me could do it, did you?" he asked.

The cat turned smoothly into a human. "Of course not," Roderich muttered. He walked up the stairs, stepping over the pieces of plaster, and brushed past Gilbert into the room beyond. After a moment, Gilbert followed him.

For a moment, Gilbert could almost believe that the apartment hadn't changed in over a hundred years. The carpet beneath the piano was faded but spotless, and it was clear it had once been fine and thick. It had faded to a pinkish-tan color, but at a glance it was believable that it had retained its dye. The piano was polished to a shine, and it reflected the windows at the opposite end. Delicate white lace curtains covered them, and the holes created by years of moths almost seemed part of the lace itself. Two polished oak doors led into what Gilbert assumed were the master bedroom and a bathroom. Only the wall across from them, which had a gaping hole in it covered up from the outside by plywood, and the doorway they were standing in ruined the effect.

Roderich had opened the piano and was looking intently inside. "I'll need the wrench you got," he said. With a sigh, Gilbert obediently went back down the stairs and grabbed the bag of parts. This was going to be a long day.

Gilbert complained the entire time, but Roderich did a suitably good job of either ignoring him or returning his complaints with biting remarks, so they survived. Gilbert kept saying, "I'd kill for a shower right now," and Roderich would reply, "Why don't you go take one, then?" and Gilbert would sort of mumble in response, but Gilbert never left. Sometimes Roderich would have to turn into a cat and watch Gilbert's work with suspicious eyes. Finally they were finished, and Roderich set about tuning the piano.

Now that his work was done, Gilbert leaned against a nearby wall. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't mind that he was hot and sweaty and dusty. He brushed some hair out of his eyes – he needed a haircut – and watched Roderich fiddle with the keys and the wires. There was something graceful about the Austrian, there was no denying that. His fine musician's hands with their neatly trimmed nails, the carefully combed hair, the way he reached out firmly to tighten that wire, there; it was evident in every aspect of him. There was something else, too, something too tightly wound inside of him that Gilbert would have liked to be the one to unwind.

Roderich let out a little sigh and straightened. He was done. He sat down on the bench, with its ancient embroidered cushion, and looked at the keys for a moment. He raised his hands and they hovered for an instant above the keys. He closed his eyes and began to play.

Gilbert had never been particularly fond of classical music. He had been forced into piano lessons once, but he had since forgotten everything he had learned (mostly on purpose). He did not know the name of the piece Roderich was playing, or who had composed it, or what era it was from. He did not know what key it was in, either, and he could not even have hazarded a guess. But he knew that it was beautiful, and all he could hear was pure joy.

Roderich's hands danced across the keys as easily as if they were breathing. The notes rang out clearly in the room, but they flowed together as if they were one thing. Roderich, who for so long had seemed to Gilbert to be out of place, finally seemed to be exactly where he should be. And though Gilbert did now know it, when he heard those first notes he fell in love.

Roderich played for a long time. Eventually, Gilbert could see the strain in his jaw and the tightness of his arms. His eyes opened and he seemed to have trouble breathing, but he forced himself to finish the last note before his curse forced him once again to turn into a cat.

The cat sat on the bench and looked at the keys as if there were nothing else there. After a long moment of silence, Gilbert pushed himself off of the wall and stretched. He forced a laugh. "Well, I'm going to go take that shower now." He picked his way across the rubble and through the doorway with only one glance back at the cat.

Though Gilbert had said he was going to take a shower, before he had gotten to the bottom of the stairs he knew there was one more thing he needed to do first. Pieces of cinderblocks and plaster covered the stairs. He fetched some trash bags and hauled as much of the rubble into them as he could. He didn't sweep up the dust, but he knew that Roderich would anyway, so there was no point. He threw out the trash and then took one of the longest showers of his life. When he came out, drying his hair with a towel, he could hear the notes of a piano drifting down from above. He smiled.

* * *

><p>Roderich began spending an immense amount of time upstairs, simply playing. Gilbert felt like he was intruding if he went up there, and it made him feel weird that he didn't <em>want <em>to intrude (being inappropriate was one of Gilbert's biggest trademarks, as his younger brother could easily attest), so he avoided the room altogether. He was almost annoyed that Roderich was abandoning him so much more now (though when had it become "abandoning"?), but hearing him play was relaxing and reassured him that he was still there, so he didn't mind so much. Weeks stretched by, and Gilbert began to think.

It had been oddly satisfying to break down the boarded up doorway. Partially, that had probably been because it involved swinging a sledgehammer, but it had also felt as if he were making something _wrong _right again. He hammered out all of the remaining plaster so that the doorway was a doorway again, but he found that he still couldn't stop thinking about that other hole in the wall, the one that had been made when the wall had rotted away. It didn't belong in the same room as Roderich and his grand piano. It needed to be fixed. So one day, Gilbert came back with some wood and hammer and nails. He tore out the rest of the rotted wall and rebuilt it while Roderich was catnapping. Roderich didn't say anything, but Gilbert knew that he was grateful. Suddenly, Gilbert was seeing all kinds of things about the place that needed to be fixed. That cupboard door was off its hinges; that dresser needed a new foot. The walls upstairs needed to be re-wallpapered, the floorboards needed new nails. So everyday, Gilbert would come home from work, eat, and then do a little fixing. He didn't ask himself why he felt the need to do this. In fact, he actively avoided the question altogether. It was, however, inevitable that it would come up eventually.

It was his day off, and Gilbert was wallpapering the last section of the main room upstairs. He had found something that looked kind of like the original (close enough for him, at any rate; he wasn't some pussy who liked to decorate) and was gluing it up in what was approximately straight up and down. He didn't even notice when Roderich walked into the room. Roderich watched him struggling with the wallpaper for a long moment. "Why are you doing this?" he finally asked. His voice was strangely low.

Gilbert turned around and nearly fell off the step-stool. He grinned. "Don't let me stop you from playing your pretty tunes. I won't make much noise, I promise."

Roderich crossed his arms. "Why are you doing this? Are you fixing up the apartment so you can sell it?"

Gilbert stared at him, open-mouthed. There was something almost like fear in Roderich's eyes, but Gilbert must have been mistaken. "Sell it?" He laughed. "I don't think some pretty wallpaper is going to make up for this place's very own ghost."

"I'm not a ghost."

"You're immortal, you can basically walk through walls and become invisible . . ." Gilbert ticked the items off on one hand. "I'd say you're a ghost."

"Why are you doing this, then?" Roderich demanded. He breathed out sharply through his nose.

"No need to get so worked up about it," Gilbert said with a frown. He thought of something and smirked a little at Roderich. "Look at it this way. I doubt I'm going to be your 'True Love' or whatever, seeing as you had that wife you're apparently not over or whatever."

"That's not how it is," Roderich said with a frown. "It was an arranged marriage. We were both from powerful families. I grew fond of her, yes, but that's over now."

Gilbert shrugged. "Whatever. The point is, the awesome me is just fixing this place up nice so when I leave you won't have to feel so crumby all the time." He snapped his mouth shut and his eyes went wide; that had not been what he had intended to say at all. He hurriedly turned back to the wallpaper, which was slowly peeling itself off the wall. "Not that I care how you feel."

Roderich made a strange choking sound. Gilbert glanced over his shoulder with a frown, but before he could ask if Roderich was, what, dying or something? he had already left, the tail of his blue coat disappearing through the doorway. Gilbert shook his head and forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand. However, he couldn't deny the guilt that was welling up inside him.

* * *

><p>Gilbert didn't see Roderich again until that evening when he was about to make himself some dinner. As he walked into the kitchen, Roderich walked out with a piece of bread in his hand. "I thought you don't need food," Gilbert said.<p>

"Doesn't mean I don't like it," Roderich snapped. He swept past Gilbert. Gilbert didn't seem again that night.

When Gilbert woke up for work the next morning, he went through his normal routine and then stepped out into the living room. He stopped, and if he had been holding anything, he likely would have dropped it. Lying on the couch, flat on his back with his head buried in the pillow, was Roderich. He had taken off his coat and draped it over his legs like a blanket. Underneath, he was wearing a white collared shirt that was now mussed from sleep. His ascot was partially untied and fluttered gently with his breathing. He was beautiful.

Gilbert regained control of himself and poked Roderich with his toe. "Get up," he said. "I thought you were dignified. Dignified people don't sleep on the couch."

Roderich opened his eyes and they widened in surprise. He sat up and the coat fell off of him. He snatched it back up, stood up, and quickly threw it back on. He began to do up his buttons. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "I don't know what came over me."

"I thought you prefer to sleep as a cat, anyhow," Gilbert said. "Cuz of the time limit and everything."

"I must have not realized I fell asleep." Roderich still refused to meet his eyes, and there was a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks.

Gilbert frowned. "Whatever, dude. I'm making pancakes. Want some?"

Roderich looked up at that. "Yes, please."

Gilbert gave him one last doubtful look, and then headed to the kitchen.

Roderich ate two entire pancakes, which was more than Gilbert had seen him eat before put together. Gilbert threw the dishes in the sink. "Well, I'm off," he said.

"Alright," Roderich said, and he sounded almost sad about it.

Gilbert gave him a weird look, but he didn't say anything. "See you tonight." The door clicked shut behind him.

* * *

><p>When Gilbert got home, Roderich was waiting for him. Theoretically he was reading a book, but Gilbert could tell that his eyes weren't moving. Gilbert went to the kitchen. He was half-way through cooking when he thought to poke his head outside and ask, "Do you want some of this?"<p>

"No thank you," Roderich replied. Gilbert half expected him to say, _I already ate_; there was more food missing from the fridge than Gilbert remembered eating. Gilbert sat down next to Roderich and ate. When he was done, he picked up the book he had been reading and picked up where he had left off. An hour later, Gilbert realized that he hadn't seen cat-Roderich in a very, very long time.

Gilbert slowly lowered his book. Roderich still didn't seem to be reading. He was frowning determinedly at the pages in front of him, but his gaze was unfocused. "Roddy," Gilbert said quietly.

Roderich jumped and looked at him. "Yes?"

"You've been acting really weird lately."

It was hard to tell in the lamplight, but he was fairly certain that Roderich's face went paler than usual. "Really?"

"Yeah." Gilbert looked at the mantlepiece and sighed a little. Roderich had polished it recently. "Did you . . . find that 'True Love' of yours?"

Roderich made a strange stifled sound. There was long, tense moment of silence. Gilbert didn't look at him. He was surprised to hear how calm and steady Roderich's voice was when he spoke. "Yes."

Gilbert looked at him and smiled a little, showing off his teeth. "Not exactly what you were looking for?"

Roderich glanced at him, and then away. His cheeks turned pink. "Not what I was expecting, no."

"Better?" Gilbert teased.

"Stop it," Roderich snapped. He had been slowly turning red, but it now seemed to be from anger rather than than embarrassment. "The curse has been lifted, so I am now free to leave. I used to think that this place was mine, but I now understand that it isn't. If you will allow me some time to get my bearings, I will understand perfectly if you want me to leave."

Gilbert chuckled a little. "Nah, you're right. This is more your home than mine. You can stay if you like. There's space."

Roderich looked at his hands. "Alright," he said finally. He stood, the movement stiff but elegant. "I'll be upstairs." He turned and left the room.

Gilbert watched as he disappeared up the wooden stairs. It was only then that Gilbert allowed himself to throw his head back against the couch and let out a stifled groan. "Why is life so _hard?_"he complained to the ceiling.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Roderich came down late specifically so that he wouldn't see Gilbert before he left for work. He was therefore surprised to see Gilbert sitting on the couch, eating the remains of his breakfast and reading a newspaper. Gilbert turned around and grinned just as he reached the last step. "Good morning, sunshine."<p>

"Good morning," Roderich said stiffly. He hesitated, unsure of whether he should retreat back up the stairs or not.

Gilbert patted the spot next to him enthusiastically. "Sit. I made extra breakfast."

Roderich carefully sat down on the opposite end of the couch and took the plate of food that was offered to him. He took a careful bite and looked at Gilbert. "Don't you have work?"

Gilbert shrugged. "I deserve an extra day off. Besides, I can always tell them I was sick or something."

Roderich said nothing further until he was done eating. He took Gilbert's plate and did the dishes, though not without a lot of frowning and looking significantly in Gilbert's direction, who still hadn't done the dishes from the night before. Gilbert innocently continued to read the paper.

"Alright," Gilbert said the moment Roderich turned off the water, "We're going out."

"Excuse me?" Roderich asked after a pause.

"You don't think you can get away with those clothes in the real world, do you?" Gilbert asked, waving at Roderich's outfit in general. "You can probably keep the shirt, but everything else has to go."

Roderich turned a little pink. "I'll have you know these are very fashionable."

"_Were. _Now come on, I'll lend you some of my stuff for now." Gilbert went and fetched a pair of almost-nice pants and a leather jacket for Roderich to try. He looked at them distastefully, but disappeared into the bathroom. He reappeared a moment later dressed in a strange mixture of old and new clothing that made Gilbert grin, though Roderich's glare was enough to keep him from laughing. The pants were too long and a bit too wide in the waist, but it wasn't anything a belt and rolled cuffs wouldn't fix. The shoes were a real problem, but Gilbert decided they were acceptable as long as he kept the pants long enough to mostly cover them.

Finally, Gilbert deemed them ready. He grabbed his keys, opened the door, and stepped out. He looked back to find Roderich still at the doorway, staring at the division between the apartment and the hallway outside as if it were an insurmountable barrier. For a moment, Gilbert felt something in him soften. "Come on," he said, and grabbed Roderich's hand. Roderich looked up in surprise, and before he knew it Gilbert had tugged him over the doorjamb. Gilbert smiled and let go of Roderich's hand. He locked the door behind them and set out. Roderich glanced back at the apartment once more, and then he followed Gilbert outside.

Gilbert could see that Roderich was a little chilly, but he knew the best thing for that was to get him some real clothing. After a few minutes of walking, Roderich began asking questions which Gilbert was only too happy to "awesomely" answer. Roderich knew a surprising amount about the outside world for having been cooped up for so long, but there was still a very large difference between hearing about something and seeing it. Cars were surprisingly easy for him to accept. "I would have expected technology to have come farther since then, actually," Roderich said in his snooty way, which made Gilbert grind his teeth. However, it wasn't long before Roderich was occupied with trying on clothes. By the time they were done, Roderich had a full wardrobe (including underwear and socks, of course; Gilbert had especially had lots of fun insisting on picking out those) and a much better understanding of what he called "new" Vienna. They picked up some food and headed back to the apartment.

As soon as they were back, Roderich made to disappear upstairs under the pretense of changing into some of his new clothes. Gilbert, however, knew that if he went upstairs he wasn't going to reappear for hours. Gilbert caught his sleeve and said, "Wait." Roderich stopped and glared at him. Gilbert smiled. "Why don't you try them on in the bathroom down here?" Roderich opened his mouth to protest, but Gilbert cut him off. "You don't think the awesome me is going to let you put everything on backwards, do you? I'll wait."

"Fine," Roderich said, and Gilbert released his sleeve. "But I'm not _incompetent._" He took his new clothes and stormed off to the bathroom.

When he reappeared a few minutes later, he was wearing dark slacks and a pressed white shirt. He looked uncomfortable in the unfamiliar clothing, but the clothes also happened to fit him very well. Gilbert let out a wolf-whistle, which made Roderich jump and glare at him. Gilbert grinned. "See, you fit right in here. Maybe in a few weeks we'll have you wearing a t-shirt and jeans."

Roderich sighed. "Gilbert, when are you leaving?"

Gilbert had not been expecting that question. "What?"

Roderich moved a little closer to him and crossed his arms. "Be honest. This is all only temporary for you, isn't it? Taking care of me?" Roderich's cheeks turned a little pink, but he ignored it. "When are you leaving?"

"Why would you think I was leaving?"

"You were talking earlier about why you were fixing up the house," Roderich said as if Gilbert needed things to be explained to him slowly. "You said–"

"I'm not leaving!" There was a pink flush on Gilbert's cheeks, but it was from anger. "I was talking about when I _died, _four-eyes! But you're not immortal anymore, are you? So we don't have to worry about that."

"Oh," Roderich said quietly.

Gilbert stepped closer to him. "When did you figure out this whole 'True Love' thing, anyway? I don't remember kissing Sleeping Beauty. Did some fairy come and write my name in pink sparkles on the wall?" Gilbert was frustrated. "How come I don't have someone telling me who _my_ 'True Love' is?"

Roderich had become tense and stiff again. He crossed his arms across his chest. "I _noticed _when you said you were leaving. All I had to do was realize I–" His voice stuttered a little. "I was in love with you. No one told me anything!"

"Fine," Gilbert growled. He covered the two steps between them in an instant. He set one hand on Roderich's waist, held his head in the other, and kissed him.

He felt Roderich melt into him. Something simply relaxed and he automatically leaned into the kiss. Gilbert felt a jolt that traveled all the way down to his fingertips. There was something more than that, though, something simply perfect that floated in the air between them, something that Gilbert couldn't grasp. _That _was when Gilbert knew. He had wondered and a part of him had suspected, but until then he had not known that he was in love with Roderich Edelstein. He never wanted to leave, and so he wasn't going to. It was as simple as that.

When they separated, Gilbert didn't let go. "Isn't part of someone being your True Love that they love you back?" he whispered with a grin into the soft skin of Roderich's cheek.

"I wouldn't know," Roderich breathed back.

Gilbert chuckled, low and deep. "This witch of yours didn't tell you jack shit, did she?"

Roderich smiled. "We weren't exactly on the best of terms, as you may recall."

"Well, I kind of wish this Elizabeta were still around so that I could thank her for making sure you got the most awesome, perfect True Love in the world."

"I suppose she might have had the right idea," Roderich conceded. "I do believe her reasoning was something along the lines of, 'You deserve to be happy, but I bet that no one exists now or in a hundred years who can make you happy.'" Roderich pecked Gilbert on the lips. "I'm glad to have proven her wrong."

"Well then," Gilbert growled into Roderich's neck, "I guess I had better get to showing you just how happy I can make you." He pushed Roderich back against the couch until his knees gave way. Roderich flopped back against the cushions with a smile.

"Yes, why don't you."

* * *

><p>It took some convincing on Gilbert's part, but Roderich eventually allowed him to buy him a suit, complete with coattails, and arrange for him to audition for the Vienna Symphony Orchestra. Roderich kept protesting, but Gilbert demanded that he give the orchestra one honest song and see if they didn't all fall over themselves to try to hire him. Roderich gave him a disbelieving look, but he let Gilbert rent a taxi and take him there. When Roderich got out, incredibly nervous but not about to show it, Gilbert poked his head out the door after him. "I'd like to see you show them how it's down," Gilbert said with a grin, "But I have stuff to do. I'll wait for you at home."<p>

They both knew that "I have stuff to do" really meant, "I'm not allowed inside." Roderich nodded and gave him a slight smile. "Of course. Until then."

Gilbert retreated back inside the taxi reluctantly and watched Roderich out the window for as long as he could. He knew, even if Roderich didn't want to accept it, that Roderich was special.

Roderich came home later that day with a sort of dazed glow about him. He had gotten the job; he could – no, _had _– to play the piano _every day. _Gilbert grinned and laughed with him. "Soon," Gilbert teased, "You'll be able to buy this whole building and fix it up like it used to be."

Five years later, that was exactly what Roderich did. The same week, Gilbert had saved up enough to buy the diamond ring he had always known Roderich deserved. It was ancient, from the 1800s, even. It appeared delicate and elegant, but there was a strength to it, and not even the years could have dulled its shine.

It was no surprise to either of them that Roderich said yes.


End file.
